“You. Your lack of emotion.” He clears his throat, readjusting his body. “It bothers me that you don’t seem more upset.”
“I’m fine, Grant.”
“But it doesn’t seem like you are. I feel like you’re either too shocked to cry or holding it in, and neither is good.” He presses his lips to my temple. “Crying is okay, my sweet, even necessary at times. Don’t be afraid to let it out. Don’t hide the pain and fear from me.”
“No,” I bite out, sitting up higher in his arms. “I’m not going to cry. I refuse.”
A pensive look tightens up his eyes. “Olivia. Why? Don’t you want to … need to? I—”
“I'm not going to cry, because he's not worth it,” I say, nuzzling against his chest.
My tone breaks apart as I continue, but it’s not grief tugging at my vocal chords, or flooding my blood and flexing my jaw—it’s anger, fatigue, rebirth, and a whole lot of fuck this shit.
“I'm tired, Grant. I'm tired of crying over people who don't deserve it. Sick of wasting my tears on people whose only intent is to harm me or take away what I love. Make no mistake, I will cry again, but not for them.”
I band my arms around his middle, cherishing the quickening of his heartbeat. It makes the fire in my blood explode into a hot roar.
“I'm saving my future tears for you, Grant. If I ever see you upset, or God forbid, if something happens to you, I will cry. I’ll cry until the salt in my tears becomes blood. But until then, never again. Not ever.”
At last, his body completely relaxes, minus one hand. He raises it and his long fingers stroke the crown of my head. Grant plants a gentle kiss on my temple, and his warm breath is a welcome sensation driving my eyes closed in total peace.
“Fair enough, my sweet,” he murmurs low in my ear. “Fair enough.”
We finish our drive home in silence.